


The Attic

by amandateaches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Reader-Insert, Salt And Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandateaches/pseuds/amandateaches
Summary: Y/N is cleaning out her dead grandmother’s house when she hears a strange banging coming from the attic. When Dean and Sam arrive, the group discovers that the banging is really a ghost, who traps Dean and Y/N in the attic. Can they survive together while sparks fly between them?





	The Attic

The call you had been dreading came not in the middle of the night, like you had always pictured, but on a completely ordinary, bright, sunny morning: Your grandmother, the last of your family, had died.

You been expecting it, she had been sick for a while, but, it still shocked you when the call finally came. You weren’t as prepared as you thought you were to lose your grandma. You decided to busy yourself getting the funeral services finalized, trying to push away the grief that threatened to overwhelm you at the loss.

After the funeral was over, you allowed yourself a few days to come to terms with your grief. You took time off work and drove out to your grandmother’s farm house, a place that always brought you comfort. In her will, your grandmother had left instructions for her farm house to be sold with all of the furniture included in the sale. She wanted to leave you money you could build a life with, not a house that would become a burden. But, her lawyer agreed to let you have a few days to go through her personal items before the sale took place.

When you reached the house and put your car into park, you felt an immediate sense of calm wash over you. It felt like you were home, safe and loved. Your grandmother’s house always had that effect on you. As you walked up to the wrap around porch and unlocked the front door, your sense of calm was replaced by an unusual feeling of unease. It was weird to think that this quaint, two-story, yellow farmhouse was all that you had left of your grandmother: of your entire family. It felt wrong somehow, like something was missing with your grandma gone.

You swung the door open and looked around the cozy living room filled with the familiar furniture and knick knacks. There were books everywhere: on the bookshelf, the coffee table, the roll top desk, the fireplace mantle. They were even piled up against the wall in the corner, stacked all the way to the ceiling. You sighed contently, overwhelmed with memories. That was just like your grandma. She loved books more than life.

You shook away the memories and threw your bag down on the floor by the door, and stepped further into the room to flip on the lights. It bathed the room in a warm glow. You smiled softly again before turning to walk into the kitchen. As soon as you turned around, the lights flickered and went out. You frowned before turning back to the light switch and flipping it on and off a few times. Nothing happened.

“Hmm….Maybe a fuse blew,” you whispered. You brightened up, confident in your theory. “I bet that happens all the time in these old houses. I’ll just go fix it.”

You started off in search of the fuse box when you heard a brand new problem: a loud banging coming from upstairs. You sighed dramatically, looked up and threw your hands in the air. “Now what?”

You decided to go upstairs, seeking out the source of the sound. As you ascended the stairs, the banging grew louder, making you feel even more uneasy. Searching for the cause of the noise, your eyes zeroed in on the ceiling in the center of the hallway, where there was an entrance to the attic. It was shaking forcefully, banging back and forth.

“What’s going on?” you wondered out loud. You had no clue what could possibly be causing the attic door to shake that hard. You studied the shuddering hatch and considered your options. Part of you wanted to go over there and open it, but the other part of you, the sensible part who’d see what happens to every moron who does that in horror movies, wanted to run screaming out of the hallway and never look back.

You chose the second option. You turned back around, ran down the stairs and right out the front door. As soon as you were out of the house you did want everyone should do in a horror movie: you called the cops.

“Listen, Ma’am,” Sheriff Arden told you 20 minutes later, as he wrote some more notes on his small notepad, “I wouldn’t worry too much about the banging. It was probably just the wind. Now, I know a little lady such as yourself can be easily scared by such things, but I’m not too concerned.”

You scrunched up your face and took a deep breath, trying to ignore your impulse to slap the sheriff’s condescending smile right off of his face. “Listen, Sheriff, I know what I saw. It was not ‘just the wind’. Something is up there.”

The sheriff glared at you and opened his mouth to fire back when you heard the distinctive roar of an approaching engine. You stood on your tiptoes and looked over the Sheriff’s shoulder at the car coming up the drive. It was a beautiful, black Chevrolet Impala. You’d guess a ‘67 or ’68, and, boy, was it well-maintained. You could tell that immediately, even from a distance. That car practically shined.

You whistled low with admiration as the car came to a stop in front of the two of you. You didn’t think your jaw could drop any further, but you were instantly proven wrong when two unbelievably gorgeous men stepped out of the vehicle. I mean, there was gorgeous and then there was gorgeous. These two easily fell into the latter category.

You smiled a little at the way the sheriff’s body tensed up when he saw the men. Whoever these two were, he didn’t like them, and that made you like them even more.

“Agents Stark and Rhodes,” Sheriff Arden said through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”

The shorter of the two flashed a grin his way. “We were just passing by on our way out of town and saw the commotion. Figured we’d stop and lend a hand.”

“This is not a federal matter, gentlemen. Besides, much like the last case you two insisted on investigating, there is nothing note-worthy going on here.”

“On the contrary,” you interrupted, pushing your way past the sheriff, “there is something very note-worthy going on here.”

The two men startled you by turning towards you at the exactly same time, almost as if they had practiced. They focused their full attention on you, which, frankly, was a little unnerving. It was kind of hard to maintain your train of thought with that kind of audience.

The taller of the two men stepped forward. “And, what would that be, Ms….”

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N. But, you can just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. “I’m Sam. This is my partner, Dean.” He gestured to the attractive man standing next to him. Dean was standing with his arms crossed, glaring silently at the sheriff. You knew you liked him for a reason.

Sam drew your attention back to him then by clearing his throat. He gave you another comforting smile as you focused back on him. “Y/N, can you tell us what happened?”

You returned his smile, feeling more at ease by his calming presence. “This is my grandmother’s house.” You paused. “Was her house. She, um, she passed away.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sam said sincerely. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dean shoot you a look of sympathy. But, it was more than that. There was understanding in his eyes, like he knew what you were going through. Had he lost people he loved?

“Thank you,” you muttered softly. “Anyways, I arrived today to go through some of her belongings and get the house ready for sale. Almost as soon as I got here, there was this loud banging coming from upstairs. When I went to check it out, the hatch to the attic was shaking back and forth. And, when I say shaking, I mean violently.” You paused to glare at the sheriff. “And, it was not the wind.”

Dean stepped forward to address you. “Did anything else weird happen? Flickering lights, cold spots?”

You considered the question for a moment before remembering. “Now, that you mention it, the lights did go out, but I just thought a fuse blew. Do you think it was related?”

“It’s a possibility.”

The sheriff interrupted the two of you, visibly exasperated. “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing up there. And, I’ll prove it to you.” He started off towards the house.

“Sheriff, wait!” Sam yelled, taking off after him. You and Dean followed, albeit you went a little more hesitantly than Dean. As you ascended the stairs, the sense of uneasiness returned. Having the agents in front of you helped a little, but not much. By the time you reached the top, the sheriff was already approaching the still-shaking hatch. He pulled it down and went up the stairs before anyone could stop him.

The rest of you reluctantly followed, determined to reason with the sheriff. When you got into the attic, Sheriff Arden was standing the middle holding his arms up. “See? Nothing up here. It was just the wind.”

Sam approached him cautiously, as if he was approaching a wild animal. “Sheriff, we need to go back down. Now.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing up here.”

Dean stepped forward too, once again mirroring his partner. “Sheriff, Sam’s right, trust me! This is not a good idea!”

The sheriff crossed his arms. “Look, I don’t know what is wrong with the two of you. It’s just an attic. See! Nothing bad is going to…..”

Before the Sheriff could finish, he flew backwards into the wall, as if thrown by an invisible force. You rushed forward to help him, but you were stopped in your tracks by what now stood in front of you. It looked like an ordinary woman, dressed in a simple long black nightgown, but something was wrong. Her nightgown was covered with blood, and her blond hair hung down limply over her face. When she looked up, you realized what was wrong. Her eyes. They were cold. Angry. Dead. Despite any prior experiences, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were staring at a ghost.

Your scream cut through the air, spurring Dean into action. “Sam, get the sheriff!” he yelled, as he moved towards you at lightening speed. You felt him pull you up and back towards the hatch. He pushed you in front of him, propelling you forward.

Sam slipped in front of you, carrying the unconscious sheriff on his shoulder. He lowered him down through the opening before jumping down after him. He turned back and reached a hand up for you. You were about to grab it when the whole room started shaking, dust falling from the ceiling around you.

Dean grabbed a hold of you again, stabilizing you before you fell flat on to your face. You looked back, over his shoulder, and saw the ghost moving slowly towards the two of you. “Dean!”

“Go! Go! Go!” He pushed you again towards the hatch. You had moved within inches, preparing to jump out towards Sam, his concerned face staring up at you, when the attic stairs suddenly flew back up and the hatch door slammed shut.

You jumped backward, out of the way, and right into Dean. “Son of a…” you heard him mutter under his breath as he turned back to the ghost.

“Alright, sweetheart, you wanna play? Let’s play.” He pulled out a cylinder from inside his jacket and threw its contents at the ghost. It instantly disappeared.

You stood up cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah. For now.” He ran his hand through his hair, groaning. “But, it’ll be back.”

You gestured to the cylinder in his hand. “What is that stuff? Magic ghost repellent?”

He smiled, which seemed a little out of place given what you had just lived through. “Nope. Salt.”

Judging by the way his smile widened, you knew the look of shock on your face was probably priceless. “Salt?!”

“Yeah. It repels ghosts. At least temporarily.”

Your head was starting to hurt. “How do you even know that? Who the hell are you two? The FBI version of Ghostbusters?”

Dean laughed, a full, throaty laugh that almost made even you smile. “We’re even better than Ghostbusters. We’re hunters.”

“Hunters?”

“Yep. We hunt and kill ghosts and other monsters like them.”

“Other monsters?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff we’ve seen. Werewolves, demons, vampires…..”

You could feel your head start to swim. “So, that’s what you and your partner do? Hunt monsters? I didn’t know that was in the FBI’s job description.”

Dean looked chagrined. “Actually, we’re not really FBI agents. My name’s not even Stark. It’s Winchester. Dean Winchester. And, Sam isn’t just my partner. He’s my brother.”

You were about to ask another question when, if on cue, Sam started yelling Dean’s name from under the now sealed hatch. “Dean! Y/N! Are you two ok?”

“Yeah, Sammy, we’re fine. I threw some salt at the bitch.”

You could practically hear Sam’s sign of relief. “Good. We’re fine down here, too. I figure the ghost can’t leave the attic.”

“That’s good news, at least,” Dean said. “Too bad we’re on the wrong side of this door.” Dean pulled off his suit jacket and moved towards the hatch and to try to push it open. You could hear Sam pulling from the other side. You couldn’t help but admire the way Dean’s shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, highlighting the muscles in his back as he pulled. You weren’t dead. Not yet, anyways.

After struggling with it for a few minutes, Dean stepped back, admitting defeat. You could see the sweat pooling on his forehead, sliding down his neck and into the collar of his extremely well-fitted shirt. You swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words.

You snapped back into reality when you heard Sam’s voice again. “I don’t think it’s budging, Dean. What should we do?”

“I guess you’ll have to leave us here while you go find the bones.”

“Wait, what?!” you stammered out, fulling alert now. Your outburst drew Dean’s piercing gaze to you. It was full of irritation at first, but it softened when he saw the distress all over your face.

“It’ll be ok,” he murmured, moving towards you with his arms extended in what you assumed was an attempt to calm you down. It wasn’t working.

“What do mean, ‘it’ll be ok’? How could it possibly be ok?! We’re trapped in an attic with a possibly homicidal ghost and you want him to LEAVE US?”

“Look, to get rid of a ghost, you have to salt and burn their bones. Since her bones aren’t here, and we can’t leave, the only option is for Sam to go do it himself. And, that means he has to leave us here.”

You blew out a shaky breath and stumbled back, sitting down slowly onto the floor. You drew your feet under you and crossed your arms over your stomach, opening and closing your eyes, trying to will this whole experience away. Maybe, if you wished hard enough, you’d wake up back in your bed in your apartment to find this had all been a horrible dream.

You could vaguely hear Dean and Sam talking lowly through the hatch. As soon as Sam left, Dean moved towards you. You didn’t pay him much attention until you noticed him sprinkling a circle of salt around you.

“What are you doing?”

“The salt will keep the ghost out until Sam can find the bones and burn them. You’ll be safe.”

“Fine,” you whispered wearily. “I’ll stay in the weird salt circle thingie, but only if you stay in it with me.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning at you. He completed the loop of the circle before stepping inside, sitting down next to you. “How’re you holding up?”

You smiled slightly then, blushing a little at the attention he was paying you. You were surprised about how kind he was being. You didn’t know many men who would ask how you felt in this kind of high-intensity situation. Dean could’ve easily just told you to shut up and stop freaking out, but he decided instead to be considerate of your feelings while simultaneously keeping you out of harm’s way. That showed a lot about what kind of a man he was.

“I’m ok, I guess. All things considered. You?”

“I’m good. Not my first rodeo.”

You laughed a little at how at ease he was with the whole thing. He looked at you quizzically. “What?”

“Nothing.” But contrary to your assertion, you laughed again deeper this time. “It’s just this whole thing is a little weird, you know? A few days ago, my life was normal. And, now my grandmother’s dead, and I’m sitting in a salt circle in her attic with a virtual stranger, hiding from a ghost.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty much the definition of weird, all right. You know what’s even weirder? That this town elected that idiot Arden to be their Sheriff.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, your laughter continuing to the point where tears came to your eyes. “This is like a bad episode of Scooby Doo!”

Dean joined you in your laughter then, both of you banishing the fear from your minds as happiness took over for a much-needed minute. Dean was the first to regain his composure, turning his gaze back on you.

“By the way, Y/N, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your grandmother. Were the two of you close?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “She was all the family I had left.”

“Damn, that’s rough. I’m sorry.” You could see that he was entirely sincere in his sympathy, which was nice, considering that most of the sympathy you were getting was really pity disguised as sympathy.

“It’s ok.” You paused, searching for the right words. “You don’t have to answer this, since we barely know each other, but I kinda had the feeling earlier that you’ve lost someone too.”

A darkness came into Dean’s eyes, and you were afraid you’d pushed him too far. After all, you barely knew him, and it wasn’t your place to ask something so personal. But, you felt a connection with him, and you wanted to explore it. You were sure he’d close up now and shut you out, but he surprised you by opening up.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve lost a few people, actually. Sammy’s really all I have left.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I know we just met, but I can already tell you’re a good guy. You don’t deserve that kind of pain. You deserve happiness in your life, to be surrounded by people you love.”

His eyes flew up to meet yours, his hand tightening around yours. “I’m not as good as you think, Y/N. I bring pain to everyone I love. All people do around me get hurt. I certainly wouldn’t be good enough for a woman like you.”

You could almost feel your heart stop after that remark. Dean continued to look at you, the intensity in his gaze overwhelming you. “Dean….” You whispered.

You leaned in, as if pulled by a magnetic force towards him. You thought he was leaning forward to meet you, when a crash sounded, startling you apart.

Your heads whipped around to where a beam of wood was lying, strewn across the floor mere feet away from you. The little window in the top of the attic flew open, a cold gust of wind chilling you.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said, taking his jacket and placing it gently over your shoulders. “She can’t get through the salt. This is all bluster.”

“Uh, Dean,” you said, pointing towards the ground. He followed your gaze. The wind from the open window was blowing the salt line away.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled. “Get behind me.”

Dean pushed you behind him, backing you up until your back hit the wall. You were blocked in by his shoulders, protected on both sides.

“Come on, Sammy…..Hurry up,” Dean muttered in front of you, his eyes scanning the room for the ghost to present herself.

You put your hands up, gripping the material of his shirt with all of your might. You tried to calm yourself, taking deep breaths, but you could feel the fear creeping up and taking hold of you.

When the ghost finally appeared, he saw it before you did. By the time you reacted enough to shout a warning, he was already throwing salt at it. That cycle continued for a few minutes, ghost appears, Dean throws salt, ghost disappears, but then the worst case scenario happened. Dean ran out of salt.

“This isn’t good,” he muttered, before he was flung across the room, crashing into the wall on the other side.

“Dean!” you screamed. You ran to him, his jacket falling forgotten off your shoulders. But, before you could reach him, the ghost appeared, stopping you in your tracks. You backed up slowly, as she raised her cold, rage-filled eyes to meet yours.

“Y/N….” Dean grumbled lowly, turning over to face you.

The ghost advanced slowly, reaching its arms out to you. You tried to scream, but nothing came out. You looked around you and grabbed the nearest object- an old cane that must’ve been your grandmother’s. You held it up, facing the ghost head on. Although you knew it wouldn’t do much good, you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

You were about to swing the cane at the ghost when you felt an invisible force stop you. It took a hold of your limbs, like thousands of vines closing in on you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. In that instant, you knew you were going to die.

You looked over at Dean, who was also trapped, unable to move, on the floor. Your eyes met and you thought, if you we’re going to die, you were happy his eyes were going to be the last thing you saw. You closed your eyes, waiting for the end, when the hold suddenly lessened.

Your eyes flew open, looking up to see the ghost backing away, her body becoming consumed with fire. In an instant, she was gone.

You took a deep, relief-filled breath, before rushing to check on Dean, who was still lying on the ground. You fell to your knees, grabbing his shoulders and turning him around. “Dean! Dean! Are you ok? Talk to me!”

He groaned. “Yeah, Y/N, I’m fine. Although, I could do without all the yelling.”

You laughed softly, helping him up into a sitting position. He looked at you, shooting a self-assured grin your way.

“Scooby Doo’s got nothing on that, huh?”

You laughed freely then as he pulled you into a warm hug. This had, without a doubt, been the strangest day of your life. But, safe and happy in Dean’s arms, you knew it was going to end with something amazing.


End file.
